


Together

by Tierner2



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reunion, the HUG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tierner2/pseuds/Tierner2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She dreams of him. She dreams and faces the truth, she must be the leader for the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this literally 5 minutes before I saw the sneak peak on Tumblr. I know it's not the real version, but I had to at least put my thoughts down on paper.

The screams are what caught her attention first.

The gut-wrenching scream pierced through the thick haze of bright red gas and the sea of arrows and spears. Clarke wanted to run toward the scream. The scream of a young girl, she realized. But she couldn’t. She was stuck, forced to watch the destruction without being able to help a soul.

The destruction _she_ caused. This was on her.

Every life she could have saved, but she didn’t. She was weak. She wasn’t a leader, she was just a child, a child whose life was now scarred by the lives she took.

She turned, ready to run — away from the battle or towards her death — she wasn’t sure, but the deep voice stopped her in her tracks.

She knew that voice. The voice of a leader…of a warrior. _This isn’t possible_.

“Running away, Princess?” he drawled, the smirk bleeding through his words. Clarke turned toward the voice, her breath catching as she saw him. His face was clean, the scars of battle washed away. He looked over the war with clear eyes devoid of the nightmares that normally plagued him.

_Bellamy_.

He turned his head slightly, watching her with interest. She felt his eyes bore into her, revealing all her secrets and stripping her soul down to its bones. He could see her as no one else could, scars and all. He could see _her_.

“They need you Clarke,” he started, his eyes never leaving her. The fight quickly left her under his gaze. She couldn’t run away. He was right. Her people needed her. Just like he needed her. And yet…

“I killed you,” she whispered, a tear making its way through her dirt-covered face. “I should have waited. I’m a murderer.”

“I was already dead the second I entered the camp, Clarke, and I knew that,” he said gruffly, the same exasperated tone he often used when he was trying to make his point. “I had to give you more time. I knew what would happen. You didn’t murder me Clarke. You saved our people. You’re a hero.”

His eyes softened as he spoke, changing his gaze to the one specifically for Clarke. Her smile, her eyes, _her_ Bellamy.

“I left our people in Mount Weather, Bellamy. They are going to die because I wasn’t strong enough to save them.” She found herself impossibly close to him, an unconscious movement that must have happened as she screamed the words she was always too afraid to say to anyone else…herself included. “I am not a leader, I’m just a coward.”

He took a slow step backward, removing himself from the heat of her self-loathing. “Are you an idiot, Princess?” he seethed, his eyes full of fire at her words. “How much do you think you would have been able to help them from that prison? You would have been just another lab rat stuck in their maze. Everyone that could help you would be stuck fighting the Grounders. A pointless war that would only lead to one outcome: death to everyone that could save you. So stop the pity Princess. Be a leader. God knows these people could use it.”

His breath mingled with hers as he closed the distance between them. “You can’t just be the head anymore, Clarke,” he said gently, the soft voice he usually reserved for Octavia, as he placed a hand to her cheek. She had never seen Bellamy this caring around her, but she knew this was him. The Bellamy Blake that raised his sister and protected his mother. The Bellamy Blake who grew up too quickly, and cared too much. The Bellamy Blake she always knew he was.

“You’ve got to be the heart, too.” His free hand grasped hers and placed it upon his own beating heart. “You have to be the leader for both of us now. Save our people, show the Arkers how it’s done on Earth.” Their fingers laced together, an unusually natural fit, she noted.

She could feel the strength coming off him in waves, soaking into every bone in her body, stealing her for the pain she would have to face.

“Ready to be a badass, Clarke?” His smile lit up the darkness, a beacon in the storm.

Her eyes met his, fire meeting ice. “Ready.”

*     *     *

She had no idea where she was, but one thing was obvious, it wasn’t home. The air was rank with the stench of blood and the sterile alcohol working to mask the smell of death. Her body felt as though she had been through a blender. Every little movement opening even the smallest cut across her skin. Her arm was on fire. Even sitting still would not stop the pain coursing through her body.

A familiar voice was calling her name. She knew that voice, she realized through the haze. Stronger than the last time she had heard it, but still the same determination. _Raven_.

Another dream, she decided. She was used to these dreams. Throughout her stay at Mount Weather they plagued her every night. A revolving cast of characters; Finn, Bellamy, Wells, Bellamy, Raven, Bellamy, Charlotte, _Bellamy_. Every death she caused, haunting her in her only moment of peace.

But this was different. She had always woken up after one, she had never continued her slumber. She had dreamed of Bellamy. It was as vivid as any memory. His words still rang through her ears, _be a leader_. If that was her dream, then how...

“Clarke, wake up! Come on, the bullet went through your arm, not your head.” Raven’s voice continued, “I was more alert and I had a bullet lodged in my spine.”

Clarke forced her eyes open. Her dreams were often vivid, but none had ever been this painful...or sarcastic.

Raven’s deep brown eyes greeted her, a smile playing on Raven’s lips. “She’s awake!” she yelled, the sound echoing through the metal room.

She could hear the sharp sounds of movement on the hollow floor before her mother’s soft face clouded her vision.

_Her mom._ She was alive. Memories of the night before flooded through her. She and Anya coming to the edge of camp, making peace for a moment, before the Arker’s opened fire. Anya's bloodied body was left in the dirt to rot while the guards dragged Clarke away, ready to kill her before her mother even had a chance to save her _. Her mom_.

Her mom was looking at Clarke as if she hung the moon — like she used to — before the Earth. _Before_...

She wanted to _scream_. She knew what her mom had done to her father. Killed him because he wanted to save the Ark. Clarke was banished to Earth, where she was as good as dead. All the pain she experienced, what she had to become, that was on her mom, the woman looking at her with innocent eyes and a watery smile.

_Save our people_ , Bellamy’s voice reminded her. She pushed her anger to the side. She could deal with her mother later. Now she needed to save her people. She put on a calm mask before sitting up, aggravating the pain radiating from her arm.

Abby’s face creased in concern, her hand finding its way to Clarke’s uninjured arm. “Sweetheart you need to take it slow. You were pretty roughed up. You need to get your strength back.”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice as calm as her face. She was proud of her performance. With all the emotions tumbling through her mind, she stayed calm. She was the leader and hiding her emotions was never her problem. Now she needed to be Bellamy. She needed to harness her emotions and win.

She looked down at her body. Her clothes were torn and the skin revealed was covered in bruises, dirt, and blood.

“We tried to clean you up the best we could,” Abby started, noticing Clarke evaluate her condition. “No lasting damage. I brought some water and clean clothes for you,” she said kindly, turning to show the tub filled with clean water and the stack of clothes on the table. “Didn’t really know what clothes would be the best, just grabbed what I could.”

Clarke swung her legs gently off the bed, standing somewhat shakily as her legs tested her weight. She could still feel the fatigue from her journey from Mount Weather, but it gave her strength. _She made it._ Now she would get her people.

“Need some help?” Raven asked, sensing tension filling the air from her confrontation with her mother.

“I’m good, thank you,” she said, allowing a small smile to grace her battered face. “Glad you’re okay.”

Raven returned the smile, her eyes shining with warmth. “Bullets in the spine are nothing. I barbecued 300 grounders.” She winked as she limped away, her brace creaking softly as she left.

Abby approached Clarke slowly, running her hand over her daughter’s matted hair. “I’ll be right outside.” Her footsteps echoed as she left, leaving Clarke alone with her demons.

She took the dirt-stained rag and dipped into the cold water, letting the chill soak through her skin. Each run across her skin revealed a new scar, some larger than others. She ran the water over the perfect stitches on her arm. Her _trophy,_ she thought with a smile, her memory taking her back before the war.

_Bellamy had injured himself...again. His shoulder was bleeding profusely, the blood making a river down his arm. But he sat perfectly still as she worked. This was the third time he had been injured. His body was littered with scars—some old, some new._

_She couldn’t believe he let himself be so careless. The camp needed him. He could get them ready for anything. What Bellamy asked, they did. No hesitation, no question. She could only marvel at his skills. This is why they worked well together, they were opposites in many ways, but that’s what made it work. Their weaknesses, were the other’s strengths. She hated to admit it, but it was kinda perfect._

_“If you get any more scars, you’re gonna have more scar tissue than actual skin.” she huffed, distracting herself from her thoughts._

_He looked over his shoulder at her, smirking as she stitched him, rather harshly. “You get enough and you stop seeing them as scars. They’re_ trophies _.”_

“Trophies _, huh. And tell me,” she continued, “What is this a trophy for?”_

_Bellamy laughed lightly as she finished, stretching a bandage over this wound. “I survived a bunch of teenagers building a wall out of scrap metal. I think that deserves a trophy.”_

_Clarke tried to fight the smile his words had caused, “Yeah well, next time, be a little more careful.”_

_“As you wish, Princess.” His smirk continued as he thanked her and went out of the drop ship, already yelling orders to the camp._

_Her trophy._ She survived Mount Weather. And she was going to do it again.

With her skin clean, she ran her fingers over the stack of clothes, her ragged nails catching on the small holes in each.

Her hand lingered on the familiar greens and browns she normally wore. The color reminded her of the beauty of the Earth. It helped her meld into her environment, become a part of the Earth.

But she couldn’t. She needed to stand out, show her leadership in more ways then personality. She had to be the leader, in every way possible.

The dark blue cotton caught her eye. She quickly pulled it over her head, repeating her new mantra in her head: _You’ve got to be the heart, too._

The black leather gave her strength—a hardness she needed—that she had gained through her experiences. The scars on her arms were left exposed, a reminder to any one who saw her, _I lived_.

She pulled her fingers through her hair, clumps of blood and dirt coming loose with every stroke. Grabbing the hair surrounding her face she twisted it together and pinned it away. _A crown_ , she realized as she evaluated her reflection in the now dirty water. _Brave Princess_.

One last breath, one last moment of weakness before she becomes _Clarke, the Leader_. One more...

*     *     *

The bright sun stunned her for a moment. She hadn’t realized how dark the Med Bay had been until that moment. Camp Jaha was bustling with activity, each person helping in one way or another. Walls were being fortified, food collected, clothing patched. Just like in space. Nothing ever changed, all workers to their posts.

Her mom was with a group making ration packs. In the light, her face showed more wear, the stress of the last month finally taking its toll. Her smile grew as she looked at Clarke, watching her walk purposefully toward the group, her stride full of confidence.

But their reunion was cut short. The guards all stiffened, guns raised as the voice of a woman traveled over the fence.

“We’ve got wounded! We need some help!”

“Let them in!” Abby shouted as she approached the wall, her mind in full doctor-mode. The gate creaked open, revealing two women, one supporting the other.

Clarke rushed over, finding peace in helping those who needed her. She couldn’t see their faces, their backs turned toward her as they navigated the forest. “She hurt her shoulder, not bad, but she needs rest and water now.”

Clarke froze as the voice reached her ears. Octavia. She was alive.

“Octavia?”

Octavia’s clear eyes reached Clarke’s as a smile spread across her face. “Clarke? You’re okay! You’re here!” She grasped Clarke as a lifeline, her happiness seeping into Clarke and filling her with peace.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She soothed, distancing herself slightly from her friend. She was so grateful to see Octavia alive, but the guilt and grief she felt looking into the familiar face burned through her. She was the reason Octavia’s brother was dead. _Did she know? Did she know what Clarke had done?_

She looked past the younger, no, the _only_ Blake, to the wounded girl. Her arm was bound and her face was full of fatigue. She approached the girl carefully, talking gently as she assessed the wound. It was a quick fix, nothing serious. “Take her to medical. Give her water and a place to sleep,” she ordered to an Arker, not looking to see if her order was followed…she knew it was.

“Clarke, wait.” Octavia called, following Clarke as she advanced to the wall. “Bell—”

But her words were cut off, the loud orders of her mother drowning out anything else.

“We need a stretcher now! Someone get me some bandages and alcohol. This arrow needs to be removed now, if we are going to help her.”

Bright red hair shown through the crowd as Clarke pushed her way though, ignorant to any disturbance she might be causing. The girl was lying on the ground, her leg soaked with blood, an arrow sticking out painfully.

_Monroe_. Clarke’s heart soared at seeing the girl. She had lived through the attack. She was okay. She felt a weight lift off her as she looked upon the girl, but her attention was quickly replaced.

A deep voice was offering soothing words to Monroe, calming her down and helping her through the pain. “You’re gonna be okay Monroe. Got it? You’re a warrior. You’re gonna fight this. You understand? You are a Warrior.”

Monroe’s resolve strengthen at the words, fight rising back into her being. “I’m a Warrior.” she looked back at the man calming her with a smile, before the stretcher came to help her.

Clark couldn’t move. She was dreaming. It was the only explanation. The man stood, his arms covered in dirt, but still strong. He turned, looking for someone, but his gaze stopped, looking directly at her.

His face was bruised, cuts covering every inch. But it was him. He was alive, and he was real. _Bellamy_.

“Clarke?” he whispered, taking a small step closer, trying to see if his mind was playing tricks on him.

Her eyes began to burn, tears increasing with every second she saw him. “Bellamy.”

She wasn’t sure who moved first, but she didn’t care. Their arms were wrapped around each other, removing all the pain and worry she had felt since she lost him. The tears began to fall from her eyes, her head burying its way into his neck. He was real.

“Princess. You’re okay.” he croaked, his voice thick with emotion.

She laughed, a laugh of relief. “You’re alive.”

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there. All she knew is that he was safe. And she wasn’t alone. They would get through this.

Together.


End file.
